


the end of all our exploring

by ivorykeys09



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Relationship of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorykeys09/pseuds/ivorykeys09
Summary: Tumblr prompt: I told my mom I have a boyfriend so she’d stop trying to set me up with people but now she’s coming to visit and I’m in too deep I need a fake boyf ASAPFelicity needs a boyfriend and Oliver is the answer.





	the end of all our exploring

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely write to prompts, but I saw this one on Tumblr and thought it was really funny. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (title credit goes to Max Richter)

Before she can talk herself out of it, she knocks on the door of 5B—the door directly across from her condo—and takes a deep breath. Nervously, she glances down the hallway to see if any other neighbors are around, but thankfully she’s her only audience to this mortifying adventure.

“This is so dumb,” she whispers to herself, straining to hear any sound. It’s quiet on the other side, and just as she raises her fist to knock once more, the door flies open.

And... _holy shit._ What was she thinking.

He is a god.

She’d known he was attractive. I mean, anyone with a pair of _eyes_ could see how handsome he is.

But seeing her neighbor every few days in a suit on the way to work is entirely different than seeing him this way.

The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of low-hanging jeans, so his insane abs are on full display, and her attention is split between them and his blue eyes, which are even more piercing than she remembers.

He looks surprised—but not disappointed—at his visitor, and she hopes it will bode well for what she’s about to ask of him.

They are neighbors, yes. But they are still essentially strangers.

Oliver smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Her eyes drop down to his bare chest and she points to it. “You don’t have a shirt on.”

There’s a pause before he answers with a chuckle, “That...is accurate,” before another bout of silence ensues. He shakes his head, as if clearing his reverie and adds, “Yeah, sorry. I just got out of the shower.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, she notices the leftover water droplets trickling down his skin. (Skin that, curiously, has light scars all over it, too.) Her cheeks flush and she forces herself to focus, since she’s wasting precious time. “Don’t be sorry. It’s nice.” Her eyes widen. “I mean...don’t be sorry since _I_ interrupted _you_. You don’t have to apologize.”

He huffs out a laugh, but looks more charmed than anything. There’s another beat of silence before he tilts his head. “Did you need something?”

Right.

She purses her lips and bounces on her toes. “I have a weird favor to ask.”

“Of course. What can I help with?”

She stops bouncing and stands up a little straighter at his immediate, unwavering answer. He didn’t even hesitate.

Felicity continues, “Are you doing anything tonight? Do you have plans?”

It’s clear he’s confused by the turn of events. “Um…”

“I mean...now. Are you doing anything _now_?”

“I was—”

“Right,” she says, cutting him off and smacking her forehead. “Of course you have plans. You’re... _you_ and look like... _that_...and why wouldn't you have plans on a Saturday night? This was dumb. I'm gonna just...yeah. I'm gonna go.” Spinning on her feet, she turns to head back to her apartment.

“Felicity.”

She whips back around. “Hmm?”

“I don't have plans.”

“Oh.”

“I worked out, so I had to shower.” He points behind him and adds, “I was just going to make some dinner after I got dressed. That's all.”

“Oh,” she says again, because her brain is apparently incapable of anything further. It snaps back to reality when she feels her phone vibrate in her hand, signaling a text. She scans it quickly. “Fuck.”

His confusion turns to concern. “Is everything okay?”

She rushes it all out in one breath. “I told my mom that I have a boyfriend so she'd stop setting me up with people but she's coming to visit and I'm in too deep. I need a boyfriend. Like, now.”

“As in…”

“ _Now_ now. Right now. She's almost to the restaurant. Or…” She looks down at her phone, which promptly vibrates again. “She’s _there_. At the restaurant. And I’m really late.”

Oliver takes stock of the woman before him, looking so completely panicked and more than a little desperate. She’s beautiful, standing there in his doorway in a sleek, fitted red dress with matching lipstick and black heels and pleading, kind eyes. He doesn’t know her well, but there’s something about her that makes him want to say yes to anything she asks of him, no matter how big or small.

“I promise I will owe you _so hard_.” Her nose scrunches. “That sounded weird. But...you in?”

He smiles. “I'm in. Let me just put on nicer pants. And get a shirt.”

Her eyes go back down to his chest and she bites her lip. “Yeah...you should...yeah. Do that,” she says distractedly, getting side-tracked again by the view. Her phone snaps her out of it, and while Oliver goes off to change, she tells her mom they’ll meet her in ten minutes, tops.

She also uses the time to go grab her purse, and when she comes back, he joins her again in his living room as he finishes tying his tie. At the sight of him, she pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath, considering him. Then, a little tentatively, she closes the distance between them and reaches up to loosen the knot. It is the first time they are truly in each other’s personal space and she resists the urge to lean in closer. “I’m vetoing the tie,” she says quietly, pulling it off of him and opening the first few buttons of his collar. “It’s too formal and I like you without it.”

When she steps away, her cheeks are a little flushed, but she doesn’t look embarrassed. Though she gets easily flustered, she _is_ confident, and he admires that about her immediately.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Ready.”

Felicity fills the walk to the elevator with bits of her past, rushed together in one breath. “I grew up in Vegas and my mom still lives there. It’s where she’s visiting from. She’s a cocktail waitress at a casino and is actually really great at it. She’s bubbly and friendly and people love her. She has friends of friends here that give her single men's numbers—how and why, I don't want to know—which she then passes off to me.” When the elevator comes, he uses his hand to hold the door and lets her inside first. She can tell he’s listening intently, serious about filing away all the information she’s throwing at him in his brain, so she continues on. “I left Vegas after high school and went to college at MIT. I graduated early. I'm...kind of a genius. I own my own tech company and it's pretty successful.” On anyone else, it’d come across as bragging, but her tone is honest, yet completely humble.

They both exit the elevator, as he asks, “How successful?”

“Earnings for Q3 were triple what had been projected.”

At that, he actually stops in his tracks. “Wow.”

Though her eyes sparkle from the compliment, they don't have time. She grabs his hand and pulls him towards the front doors. The restaurant is, thankfully, only a short walk away, but the more time her mom sits alone, the more time she’ll get suspicious. “My best friends are Iris, a journalist, and Barry, a forensic scientist. They’re engaged and live in Central City. She may ask about them.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Vegas, crazy mom friends, MIT, brainiac, Iris and Barry.”

She laughs. “Yes, those are the highlights.”

They’re about a block away from Beretta, so he pulls her hand to stop her. “Is your dad joining?”

The color in her eyes dim slightly. “My dad left when I was young, so it's just been my mom and I.”

The meaning behind that is not lost on him, and he gives her a look that he hopes conveys that. “Okay. What’s her name?”

“Right.” She smiles. “Donna Smoak. She will probably call you ‘honey’ or ‘baby’’ before the end of the night. I’m sorry in advance.”

“It’s not the worst I’ve heard,” he says, smirking at her.

The valet open the doors for them and she clears her throat before the night officially starts. “Last thing, but you should know...I haven’t introduced any boyfriend to my mom since college. And he ended up killing himself while we were dating, so…this is a big deal.”

He stops her again, because _woah_. That’s a big thing to drop seconds before he meets her mom. Before he can even react, her eyes widen and her breath picks up. “And on top of that, I'm lying to my mom. Oh my god oh my god,” she gasps, panicking as reality sets in. She looks into the restaurant and back at him. “Frack. She sees us.”

“Hey,” he says, meeting her eyes and forcing her to take a deep breath. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

And then, before she can step away, he leans down and kisses her. It’s soft and sure and brief, like a habit, and she feels everything inside her relax.

He pulls away. “Okay?”

Feeling a little dazed, she just nods and lowers her gaze to his lips.

“Okay,” he says, squeezing her hand and pressing another short kiss to her mouth. She knows they have an audience they need to sell it for, but she can’t help but wonder if he knows exactly what this is doing to her. 

She finds she doesn’t really care.

Her mother’s excited squeals force them to break apart and, after loud and lively introductions, they are brought over to a corner table. While Donna fusses over her daughter’s outfit, Oliver discreetly orders a bottle of cabernet and tries to follow their zippy discourse.

Donna waits until their wine is poured before she starts the line of questioning. “So…” she sing-songs, looking at them expectantly.

Felicity sips her wine nervously. “So...what?”

“How did this happen? I need all the deets, baby, you’ve barely given me any info!” The scold is harmless, but Felicity can still detect a small amount of hurt behind the words. “Not that I don’t understand why you haven’t been sharing him, honey, I mean, he’s just _divine._ ”

Felicity barely stops herself from choking, and coughs further when she catches her mom wink at Oliver. “Mom!” She’s so mortified she can’t even spare a glance at her pretend boyfriend to see his reaction, but the calming hand that appears on her thigh tells her he’s fine. If anything, she realizes he’s trying to soothe _her_.

Oblivious to her daughter’s mini breakdown, Donna picks up her wine glass and gestures to them. “So...give me all the info! How did you meet?”

“How did we meet?” Felicity echoes, clearing her throat and taking a sip of water to stall. Twisting in her seat, she turns to Oliver for the first time in minutes.  “Umm...babe, do you want to tell that story?” she asks, too nervous to notice the endearment that naturally slips out. It’s totally unfair to force him to make up the story, but a fictional writer and thinker, she is _not_.

He, blessedly, takes it in stride, settling back in his seat after taking a sip of wine. “Well, we’d been neighbors for a few months, but our conversations we’re nothing more than neighborly chit chat. One time she asked me to sign a package for her while she was out of town, and then I ran out of eggs one day—which was categorized as an emergency by my younger sister Thea, who _had_ to have french toast during our Sunday brunch.” He laughs lightly, but it’s clear he has a soft spot for his sister.

Felicity quietly files that away, eagerly listening to everything he reveals about himself. She was so caught up in making sure he knew her story, she hadn’t given him any time to share his.

He continues, “So I borrowed a few eggs from her. And then we started this little IOU thing. Like the time when her fire alarm wouldn’t stop going off and she needed batteries and my height to silence it.” He smiles. “Our relationship was nothing more than little favors for each other every once and awhile. And then one day, I decided to cash in. I asked her to coffee.”  

She’s so wrapped up in his story, she barely registers the way his eyes change as he looks at her. They’re entirely kind, but there’s a wistfulness that’s impossible to miss.

And then everything he’d said settles in and she feels herself grow warm again. Because the thing is….all of those things are true. She _did_ ask him to sign a package and he'd borrowed a few of her eggs and last month he helped replace her alarm’s batteries.

He’d known how anxious she’d been about fabricating their whole relationship, and so he’d found a way to tell the truth without creating a web of lies.

Those moments he’d spoken of were short and almost meaningless in passing, never going beyond niceties or thank yous, and it’s only now that she regrets that.

As he begins to tell her mom what he does for a living (he’d founded a private security company), she finds herself appreciating him more and more. She’d waited until the very last minute to think of a plan. Plan A would have been to just tell the truth, but Plan B...ended up being okay. Thinking now, she supposes, she could have asked Curtis—her new employee-turned-fast-friend—or even Cisco, though it would’ve been a stretch. She’d been surprised when Oliver had popped into her head, but she’s glad her conscience had given herself the idea in her moment of desperation. Going beyond the literal sense, there is something safe and secure about him; she’d felt it from their first interaction, and she feels it even more so now.

Her mother had always raised her to befriend good humans, and she knows without a doubt that he is a good one.

Through conversation over their entrées, he talks about his best friends, John and Lyla, and their little girl, Sara, his goddaughter. It's obvious how positively _smitten_  he is over her and both Smoak women find it adorable. She also learns it’s just him and his sister, and though he doesn’t offer up much explanation to where his parents are, she gets the sense that tragedy has somehow weaved it’s way through his past. The scars on his chest had hinted at it, and she aches at the thought of what other remnants are left. She reaches below the table to squeeze his hand in comfort, reciprocating the gesture he'd given her, and he looks over to her in gratitude.

The truth is: though he is her fake boyfriend, and it’s only been a few hours, this thing between them is the realist thing she’s felt in years.

He is sexy and down to earth. She likes that she makes him laugh, even when she isn’t trying. She likes the way he looks at her; she feels beautiful and desired, which is something that is rare for her. She really likes the way he talks to her mom—not down to her, like most people, but actually _with_ her, like he cares what she says. And she likes that her mom notices this and feels proud of her circumstances and the way she raised her daughter.

But she really, really likes his eyes; they are sincere and empathetic and trustworthy. They feel familiar, like some place she wants to take root in and stay awhile.

She likes him. A lot. And she has a thrilling sense that the feeling is mutual.

The rest of the dinner goes by smoothly, without any major slip-ups beyond her reaction to his company’s name.

(“Queen Security.”

“Queen?”

“….”

“....”

“....my last name.”

“Right. I know,” she’d said quickly, covering her mistake. “I was kidding.”

Her mother thankfully hadn’t noticed.)

Donna isn't the brightest bulb, but it still doesn't take much to convince her; they don't kiss again, but instead just trade little touches here and there. The more time that passes, though, the more comfortable and affectionate they get. By dessert, she barely realizes what she's doing before she does it: she reaches over to wipe a tiny bit of chocolate from his lip and sucks the remnants off her thumb.

(She doesn't miss the way his eyes darken at that.) 

When the check comes, she forces herself not to be disappointed. It’s ridiculous and almost silly how much she’d like this to continue, but she'd known the night had to end sometime.

He hands the waiter his AmEx before she can even reach for her purse. She rests a hand on his arm and lowers her voice, “That’s so kind, Oliver, but you don’t—”

He cuts her off with an amused look, so she just concedes, nodding graciously and savoring the last sip of her wine. The waiter returns shortly with his card and, after collecting Donna’s suitcase from the coat room, they head to the exit.

“It’s just a short walk, mom,” Felicity explains, leaning in closer to Oliver when she feels his hand rest on her lower back. The night had turned chillier, so she allows herself the pleasure of his warmth, and they both laugh as her mom chatters excitedly about finally seeing her new apartment.

Once they reach her door, Donna gives him a big hug. “It was so nice meeting you, sweetheart,” she says warmly, before looking back and forth between them. “I’ll let you two say goodnight.” With a parting wink, she heads inside.

And then it’s just them.

After a moment, Felicity smiles at him gratefully, leaning back against her door. “Thank you, again.”

“It was my pleasure,” Oliver says, taking a step closer. “I had a nice time.”

He suddenly seems so much taller.

She looks up at him, then down at his lips. “Me too.”

There are so many thoughts running through her mind, she doesn’t know what to settle on. She is so appreciative, but with the late hour and the wine, she knows she’ll make it awkward. So before he can say anything, she breaks their eye contact and digs in her purse. The only sound is the rustle of her bag’s contents, but she finally finds what she’s looking for. Before losing the courage, she pulls out her favorite red pen and reaches down for his hand.

The air is charged and heated, and he watches in rapt attention as she gently writes on his hand.

**IOU**

When she’s finished, she stands up on her toes and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, Oliver,” she whispers, then backs away, holding his gaze until she closes her door.

.

She’s making coffee the next morning when she hears a loud pattern of knocks. It’s _stupid_ early, she’s in her owl pajamas, and her hair is probably a curly mess, but she rushes over to get it before it wakes her mom. “Yes?” she answers breezily, pulling open the door.

“Can I cash in?”

“Uh, what?” she asks, mind still catching up, before registering who’s standing in the hallway.

It’s Oliver. He’s wearing running clothes, looking more handsome than she knows what to do with, and he’s holding up his hand.

“Can I cash in?”

Her smile must suffice, because he’s kissing her before she can even answer back. Strong arms wrap around her spine as he pulls her closer and deepens the kiss, sending a jolt of heat through her body. It takes her breath away and makes her lose all concept of time, and when he finally pulls away, her brain feels fuzzy in the best way possible.

He grins down at her like she's his favorite thing.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“I’d love some,” he answers, then she pulls him inside.

**.**

**.**

**end**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I always appreciate comments, if you feel inclined to leave one. 
> 
> tumblr: ivorykeys09


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